Loves Consquences
by IsanthusBrachiatus
Summary: Clarke loves Lexa. Lexa loves Clarke. While fighting wars with themselves and others, they must also fight for each other. But love has consequences, will Clarke and Lexa survive theirs.
1. Bloodied Memories

**Chapter One- Bloodied Memories**

 **Clarke**

" _Yu gonplei ste odon"._ Blood combined with sweat creates winding rivers down Clarke's arms as she slices her knife through the flesh of the deer that lays before her.

Meat carved, wrapped and securely packed within her rucksack, Clarke uses the surrounding grass to wipe off the blood that coats her hunting knife. Settling the knife into its sheath at her waist she pushes herself up from the ground. Looking down, Clarke is brought to a stop by the deep red that has soaked her dirt-crusted jeans and the puddle of blood that has slowly formed as it drips from her fingers to the ground beneath her. Clarke admires the brilliance of its colour, the way it still seems to emanate the beat of life even here on the ground, where life seems to constantly be at an end.

Clarke suddenly whips her head away, unable to look at the ground, at herself, nausea gripping her stomach as thoughts and memories begin to creep through her mind. Thoughts of melting flesh, of cries of pain, of her mother's blood, of Bellamy's hand on hers, of Octavia's hate filled eyes, a burning village, a knife stained with blood as she pulls it from Finn's chest and Jasper clinging to Maya begging her not to leave him.

Pain coils within each of her limbs as the memories once again threaten to consume her. Clarke lets the pain come, forces herself to endure the agony of some many lives lost, her punishment for the end of some many lives at her hands. As shadows begin to grow around her, Clarke forces the memories into the box, the darkest part of her that has become so familiar these past few months. Her eyes sting but have remain dry as she is finally able to take in her surroundings. The sun sits lower in the southern sky and Clarke knows she does not have long before she will need to make camp for the night. While this fact lays centre in her mind the thought of having to spend much longer in clothes saturated with blood wins out over logic and Clarke heads for the nearby river.

By the time Clark reaches the river, only a few rays still touch the water, leaving most of it a shimmering body of darkness. Clarke heads for a little branch of the river, created into a dam by a fallen tree that is still illuminated by the sun. Leaving her pack against a nearby rock, Clarke slips off her jacket and lays it across the rock, before proceeding to unbutton her jeans and pull off her shirt, dropping them at the water's edge. She begins her descend into the water, her tired mind suddenly becoming more alert as the cool water washes over her sticky, mud covered, bruised skin. Clarke begins to run her hands over her body removing all evidence of the day's activities, discolouring the water around her. Finally clean, she floats in the water, her eyes closed, content for a moment to just let the water slide over her body, like soothing hands, calming her wounds and mind.

As the shadows begin to cover her body, Clarke sighs before standing up and reaching for her filthy shirt and jeans. She makes quick work of scrubbing them clean before walking out of the river and laying them flat on a nearby rock. Reaching in her pack she begins searching for a new shirt and pants which she settles on the ground next to her. While waiting to dry off, she grabs some of the berries and nuts that she picked two days ago to snack on, scanning the forest around her for a good tree to sleep in.

As the sun reaches the final moments before its disappearance, Clarke pulls on her clean clothes. Laying her now only damp clothes across the top of her pack before slinging it onto her back, she heads towards a tree she spotted earlier. Upon reaching the tree, she begins her ascend to the deep crook that has formed between branches of the tree.


	2. Many Kinds of Battle

**Chapter Two- Many Kinds of Battle**

 **Lexa**

" _Commander if I may speak?"_

" _Yes Alios you may"_

" _We need to take action against the Ice Nation. We cannot let their intrusion onto our lands go unpunished. It is a clear attempt by the Ice Queen to intimidate us, show that she believes that we are weak"_

" _That I am weak"_

" _Commander?"_

" _People believe that because I chose to leave the battle at Mount Weather and the Sky People, and then Clarke of the Sky Crui proceeded to bring down the mountain without an army, they believe me weak"_

The silence that answers Lexa's statement confirms the whispers she has heard circling the clans. For the first time since beginning her lead as commander Lexa feels the seeds of doubt from her people plant themselves inside her. Could one girl, a single girl who fell from the skies really be her downfall? How could an individual so consumed and driven by emotion be so powerful? Powerful enough to challenge even her own authority as commander?

As such thoughts swim through her mind, Lexa's face remains impassive while she stares at the maps laid on the wooden table in front of her. Finally looking up her gaze travels over the 11 clan ambassadors and her chief warriors that stand around the war table.

" _The Ice Nation will reach the Northern edge of the forest by noon tomorrow. We shall meet them there. Indra will lead a march from the east and Alios you will march from south. The river in the west will trap them in. We leave the Citadel in two hours, go, ready your warriors for battle. I will meet you at the city gates"_

Mumbles of _"commander"_ echo as each ambassador and warrior leaves the room. Lexa stands stoic, acknowledging each individuals departure only with her eyes. As the final ambassador leaves the room, she nods her head to the guards at the door and they follow him out, closing the door behind them. As Lexa hears the sound of wood hitting wood and the click of the door firmly shut, her shoulders cave in, the only physical sign of the burden she feels inside.

Her thoughts wander mindlessly through tomorrow's battle plan, the sacrifices that will indefinitely be made to defend her position and thereby her people. The noise on the streets below carrys up to her balcony and she wanders to the edge to stand watch over her people. Children run through the streets chasing each other, as parents stand bargaining with the market traders. The melodic beat of drums and the sweet sound of song travels through the streets of Polis. The smallest smile begins to shape on Lexa's lips.

Her eyes sweep further up the street and her heart painfully contracts in her chest. Even from the distance of the tower she recognises the woman who stands with Nyko at a stall, no doubt trading medicinal herbs and concoctions. _Abby_. Clarke's mother. Kane stands beside her, a handful of other Sky People just behind them, watching with fascination, the life that fills the air around them.

Lexa straightens up determined to not let thoughts of Clarke enter her mind. Instead turning around to once again study the maps laid out on the table of war. She traces Indra's march route with her fingertip, focusing all her mind of imagining the lay of the land, looking for any oversights they may have made in choosing that path.

With a small shout of frustration, Lexa rams her knife into the wood. Nothing, not even the rapidly coming battle can distract her mind long enough to temper thoughts of Clarke. Seething at herself, she paces along the hard stone floor of the Meeting Chamber. Tension creeps up her arms as she is reminded of the desire she felt that day she stood in the tent, Clarke so defiantly calling her bluff, forcing her against the table as she revealed to Lexa the flaws she'd been able to see in her impassive armour.

Eventually temptation won out and she summoned her guard.

" _The leaders of the Sky Crui are conversing in the centre square. Tell Abigail Griffin I wish to speak to her and bring her to me"_

" _Yes Heda"_

As her guard once again leaves, closing the door behind him, Lexa sinks into her chair. The familiar hard wood gives her some comfort. Reminding her of the times she sat in this chair, her people bowing at her presence. The thought straightens her spine and she takes out the knife gifted to her by Anya. Twisting it on the arm of her chair, as she did the first time she met Clarke, Lexa waits for the arrival of the Sky Crui leaders.

A knock at the door announces the return of her guard.

" _Come in"_

The guard opens the door wide and steps inside, bowing his head, " _Heda"_ before stepping aside and introducing the individuals behind.

" _Commander as you requested, Abigail Griffin and Marcus Kane of the Sky People"_

Slowly Lexa looks up from the turning dagger in her hand. Once again her heart squeezes as she stares at the startling blue eyes of Abigail Griffin, a trait she gifted her daughter with. Taking a minute to swallow and determine her voice is steady Lexa opens her mouth to speak, praying that she is indeed, in control.

" _Abby, Kane, welcome to Polis, the Citadel for my people. Have you found it to your liking?"_

Kane steps forward with a smile before beginning, _"Your home is impressive and we are extremely honoured to be welcome here"_

" _Well, a peace treaty does allow for interaction between our two peoples. You are welcome here any time, as the treaty holds"._ Lexa inclines her head towards Abby, _"I have heard that you have been educating Nyko in your medicinal treatments. Has he been a good student?"_

Abby too, steps forward beside Marcus, wary of the commander but curious as to why Lexa summoned her.

" _He has been an excellent student, Commander. Although I will say, that I believe that I have learnt more from him. His talent and knowledge in the area of healing is quite profound"_

Lexa smiles, slightly smug, and replies, _"He is a fine healer, one of our best"_

Silence fills the room as the small talk ends. Lexa, sits quiet, as she tries to convince herself she called for the Sky People merely out of curiosity for what they were doing in the Citadel. Abby and Marcus, awkwardly shuffle there feet clearly unsure what to do. Finally Marcus clears his throat.

" _Commander, if I may, is there something that you wished to discuss with us?"_

Hesitating for the slightest moment, Lexa says in an even voice

" _The Ice Nation has intruded on our lands. In an hour we ride out to meet and do battle with them. We will hold a celebration on our return to the Citadel. I would like to invite, you, Abby, Clarke and other representatives of the Sky People to joins us for the feast"_

" _We would gladly accept your invitation, Commander. Abby and myself, and our people would be honoured to join you in celebration",_ pausing uncertainly for a moment, Marcus continues, _"But Clarke will be unable to join us"_

For the briefest second Lexa's eyes flash with surprise. Although aware of Clarke's distrust and dislike towards her after the happenings at Mount Weather, Lexa had assumed that at least for the sake of the peace treaty and her people she would partake in important relationship building invitations such as this. Voice tightly controlled, only a hint of frustration slipping through, Lexa begins

" _And why is Clarke of the Sky People not able to attend?"_

Marcus looks towards Abby unsure how to proceed. The looks that passes between them, leaves Lexa inexplicably placing her hand tightly on the grip of her knife and small knot forming in the pit of her stomach.

" _Abby?"_ Lexa breathes

" _Commander...I….Commander I was sure you were aware by now….Clarke…Clarke left the camp after the peace treaty signing. She told Bellamy she needed some space. No has seen or heard from her for the past two and a half months. We have sent search parties looking for her but to no avail. It seems my daughter does not want to be found"._

Panic, panic like she hasn't felt in years, panic that she thought she would never feel again after Costia surges through Lexa threatening to consume her completely.


	3. The Scars of Betrayal

**Chapter Three- The Scars of Betrayal**

 **Clarke**

The sun beats against Clarke's skin as she walks the ridge line of the cliff. After spending the night by the river, she began her trek east, not sure of her destination, only that she was not yet far away enough from Camp Jaha, Mount Weather and all the death that had been a result of her choices.

Well practiced in blocking out such thoughts, Clarke focuses on the rocky terrain ahead of her. Her paces slows ever so slightly as she begins to scrabble over boulders. Her arms and shoulders ache from the effort of pulling and pushing herself over each rock and eventually Clarke gives in to her body's cries and stops for a break.

Settling herself between two boulders, trying to shield herself from the sun for a moment, Clarke examines her hands. Scraps and scratches cover her palms and fingers, stinging somewhat but thankfully not deep enough to bleed too much. As she examines her hands, her eyes begin to trail up her arm. In the heat, Clarke had removed her jacket and could clearly she the tone that she had gained in her upper body over these past two months. Her biceps, no longer just slim sticks were defined and strong. Her hand moves slowly over the muscle, intrigued, as a small proud smile forms on her lips.

In space, physical strength wasn't a necessity. They had had a gym on the Ark but she didn't often frequent it even before she was locked in prison. Down on earth though, strength, and not just physical seemed almost essential for survival. Her mind suddenly flicked to Lexa and briefly, just for a moment, Clarke let her smile broaden as she thought of how the commander would approve of her new developments.

Soon though, old thoughts of Lexa entered her mind. The back of Lexa as she walked away from Clarke at Mount Weather, and the blinding betrayal that had left Clark almost too shocked to move. Hatred filled Clarke as she wondered, not for the first time, how Lexa could have just walked away. And the lives Clarke ended because of it. Not just those in Mount Weather but also those in TonDC. Anger bubbles up through her body until finally her chest feels as though it may burst from the pressure and she lets the tension release with a cry of rage that rings between the boulders surrounding her.

All of a sudden exhaustion descends on Clarke. For a moment Clarke closes her eyes. Images of the Ark circulate her head and for the second time that day, Clarke wishes that she had never been made to come to earth. That there hadn't been a fault with the oxygen systems. That life had remained the same mundane way she had always known. Tilting back further so her head rests against the rock behind her Clarke falls asleep to the silence of the earth around her.


	4. Battle Plans

**Chapter Four - Battle Plans**

 **Lexa**

The horse's strides create the steady rhythm that helps Lexa clear her thoughts. Her earlier shock and worry pushed down for a later moment. Right now she had to focus. She is the Commander and she has a duty to her people. Not long before dusk they arrive at their destination. Lexa choosing to march with Alios for the direct assault now sits with her chief warriors discussing their final attack positions.

" _They will most likely follow the ridge line, before coming up the valley passage between the two mountains where they will hit the edge of the forest. That means that we should be able to pressure them back before they reach the forest if we attack early, they'll be trapped in the passage and forced to retreat",_ Attila, one of the chief warriors noted.

" _We will leave just before dawn so as reach the end of the passage before the Ice Nation. Send riders immediately to Indra's march and inform them of our plan"_

" _Yes Heda"_

" _Go brief your warriors of the plan and we will convene again tomorrow morning. That is enough for tonight"_

Lexa stands at the table and watches as each of her chief warriors exits the tent. Her fingers go to her side, resting on the hilt of her sword. The familiar feel of the worn animal hide that covers the grip loosens the tension in her muscles but only slightly. Lexa often found herself faced with death, no longer did she fear death as she knew it was for her people should that moment come. But standing at her war table, littered with maps and figurines, tomorrow's plans swirly round her mind, she couldn't help but be the smallest bit afraid. Afraid that should her spirit be taken from her body tomorrow she would never have the chance to make amends. Make amends to Clarke. Knowing she could never truly regret her actions for she saved so many of her own, didn't stop the hope, the need she felt to prove to Clarke that she wasn't the dishonourable monster Clarke believed her to be. Breathing deeply to bring back control, Lexa squeezes her eyes shut for a few seconds before making her way slowly to the makeshift bed.


	5. The Edge of Death

**Chapter Five- The Edge of Death**

 **Clarke**

By the time Clarke had woken up, it was almost evening, but figuring she had already wasted several hours travel time sleeping, she kept walking till well after the sun had set. Eventually the steep rocky terrain ended, flattening out, giving relief to Clarke's sore and tiring legs. Although Clarke's eyes had adjusted to the darkness around her, her still learning about earth caused slight discomfort at shadowed unfamiliar shapes. Eyes trained ahead of her, ignoring the foreign and strange shapes, Clarke notices a slight change in the darkness ahead. A few metres away the ground seemed to darken into complete blackness, not even the moonlight able to pierce its murky form. Deciding it was just a change in terrain, probably grass and feeling relieved at the thought of soon walking on something other than hard rock and dirt, Clarke continues forward. Her feet finally finding the edge of the darkness, Clarke stops, feeling a slight cool breeze rising from below her.

Suddenly the ground no longer remains stable below her. Her feet fly forward underneath her and her rucksack hits the ground behind her, softening the blow only slightly. As her legs slide further forward she moves them around searching for something solid to plant them on, finding nothing but open air. As the ground underneath her waist disappears Clarke rolls onto her stomach, feeling the sharp sting of rocks digging into her shoulders. Her heart racing from terror and adrenaline and still sliding down, she reaches out her arms, desperately seeking something to grip. Her hands slide along the ground, rocks and shrubs slicing them open. With only her forearms still touching solid ground, for a moment Clarke thinks how easy it would be to just let go. Let herself fall. No more pain. No more guilt. No more fear. No more burden. No more betrayal. No more Lexa.

As her fingers feel the edge of the cliff, Bellamy's face rushes to her mind. And the word's she whispered just before she walked away, _"May we meet again"._ Agony springs tears to her eyes as she sinks her nails in the hard rock of the cliff, trying to stop or at least slow her descent. Her eyes search the wall in front of her for anything to hang onto. All of a sudden her hand meets the edge of a waterfall of vines growing against the cliff. Her right hand reaches out, grabbing for them. Her arm twists painfully, as her swinging body weight twists underneath it. Quickly she reaches out with her left arm, grabbing at another bunch of vines. Heart pounding so hard she's almost certain it may fail from the effort, Clarke lets out a shaky breath and leans her clammy forehead against the rough surface in front of her. As her heart slows somewhat, Clarke lifts her head, feeling the rocks and dirt that cling to the sweat on her forehead. Arms feeling weak from the effort of holding her bodyweight, Clarke uses the uneven covering of the cliff to push herself upwards. Feeling the edge of the cliff, she pushes once more against the wall before firmly placing her hands on top and heaving herself upwards and over. Quickly scrambling back from the edge, Clarke lays down, breathing heavily. Her muscles scream in pain. Staring up at the brilliant black of the sky, stars randomly sprinkled throughout the darkness, limbs unable to move, Clarke closes her eyes as shock and exhaustion takes her under.


	6. Drums of War

**Chapter Six- Drums of War**

 **Lexa**

She can feel the bodies that march behind her. The bodies of her warriors. Warriors that will again on this day lay down their life for her. As she will give hers for them and her people. Alios marches on her right, hand lightly grazing the sword at his side. A sea of men and women move forward through the forest but still only silence whispers through the trees.

Gaze forward, all thoughts absent from her mind, Lexa watches the trees before her. The sky overhead just turning from the blackness of night, to a rich midnight blue as the first signs of sunrise appear. Even as she approaches battle, Lexa lets herself appreciate the blue wash haze that filters over the forest. The beautiful tranquillity that surrounds her. She raises her hand as she sees the edge of the forest, knowing the passage lay not far from its boundaries. The steady beating of the warm drums reflects off the trees, creating a song of battle. As she reaches for her sword, hands grab her shoulders, shoving her to the right side. Years of training steady's her feet, but as the weight of a human body slumps over her Lexa hits the ground. Cries erupt around her, her warriors surge forward as more arrows fly. Alios lies on top of her, an arrow protruding from his back, blood seeps in rivulets down his armour.

Bala and Marino, two of Alio's men move forward, lifting him from Lexa's body.

Rising from the ground, the commandment comes out almost in a hiss

" _Tend to him"_

" _Yes, Heda"_

Turning quickly and swiftly pulling her sword from its sheath, Lexa runs forward. With a grunt her blade slices through the Ice Nationer's body, leaving bright blood gleaming on her blade.


	7. Wanheda's Fight

**Chapter Seven- Wanheda's Fight**

 **Clarke**

The first rays of sunlight pierce the darkness of Clarke's eyelids. The sun warms her bruised and battered body that lays stiffly against the hard ground where she passed out the night before. Slowly, eyes still closed, Clarke rolls onto her side, gently sitting up to lean against a nearby boulder. Too fast she opens her eyes, springing tears and forcing her to blink rapidly for a few minutes while her eyes adjust to the rising sun that glares in front of her. Eye's adjusted Clarke begins to bend and stretch each limb checking for any breaks or strains. Each muscle is stiff and complains loudly with the movement. Although in agony, Clarke finds nothing broken, just the aftermath of over-used muscles. She begins to examine her hands which seem to have suffered the worst physical trauma. Grazes and deeps cuts, both new and re-opened wounds cover both hands, dried blood crusting against her skin. Grabbing her tin of water she washes the cuts, biting down on her lip at the painful sting. Carefully she dresses each hand, generously applying an anti-bacterial concoction she bought from a trader when she entered the last village a few days back.

Her stomach rumbles. After a quick breakfast, Clarke stands and begins inching herself forward. At first her muscles almost refuse to comply and each step gives her the sensation of almost snapping her tendons in half. Careful to remain a decent distance back, Clarke investigates what had almost resulted in her death the night before. Peering cautiously forward, Clarke examines the cavernous valley passage that lays between to the two mountains. A drop of at least 100 feet greet her. Her heart once again picks up as the terror of what could have been shows itself to her in the daylight.

Her ears suddenly pick up the sound of a steady beating of something. A sound so familiar yet one she heard some time ago and can no longer remember its origins. Unable to see a way across the valley and unwillingly to turn back, Clarke begins to pick her way along the edge of the cliff, heading for the beat.

Walking for long enough that the sun now sits above the horizon, Clarke racks her brain for when she last heard the sound of the beat that still echo's around her. As a new sound rises, that of the cries of men, her feet stumble as the memory flicks to the forefront of her mind. The image of a stone bridge. Of burned bodies littering the ground. War drums. Clarke continues to stumble forward, even as the fear travels through her blood. Fear not only for the possible danger but fear of what she might see. Fear of more mangled and bloodied bodies haunting her mind. And yet something compels her forward. Her eyes search ahead of her, coming upon what must be the end of the valley, a steep rising hill that reaches the start of the forest, littered with weapon welding figures. Like ants, their small black figures dance around each other, as cries are made and bodies fall.

For a moment Clarke reconsiders her earlier decision, contemplating turning back. But only a minute passes before she dismisses the thought, once again the fear of her past overshadowing that of the present. Figuring she can just hide and wait it out, Clarke continues toward the proceeding battle.

The sun still hangs low in the sky when Clarke makes it to where she believes she can wait it out. So close she can see the intricacies of the war paint that cover each warriors face, Clarke crouches behind some bushes, laying her pack softly on the ground. Shock stuns her still at the familiarity of each paint colour. Charcoal and Winter Snow. Trikru and Ice Nation. Observing through the branches, Clarke sees the spread of warriors. Individuals still battle on the hill leading from the passage, but fights also spread before and in the forest that lies directly in front of it. The ring of swords meeting and the continuing beat of war drums, do nothing to help her slow her racing heart. Nor does the possibility of Lexa's proximity.

Her eyes spot Indra just as a hand reaches round her head covering her mouth and a knife comes to rests at her throat.

" _Wanheda, my Queen will be pleased with such a gift",_ the voice behind her gleely says

Feeling the pressure of the knife still at her throat and knowing the risk but still going with it anyway, Clarke kicks her right leg backwards hitting her attacker in the knees. Surprises forces him backwards and the knife slides away from her neck. As Clarke swings around, she reaches for the knife hidden in her boot and slams her bodyweight into his. They both hit the ground, his body absorbing most of the impact but still leaving Clarke momentarily stunned. One arm pinned by her leg, her attackers other arm reaches to push her off, quicker Clarke points the tip of her knife over his heart and his hand stops. Blood starts to spread from where the tip of the knife has pierced the skin and Clarke hesitates. In that moment of hesitation, her attacker grabs her wrist, rolling them over till he sits over her, her wrist in his grasp as he points her own weaponed hand at her chest.

" _Don't try that again Wanheda"_

Confused but furious, Clarke spits

" _I don't know who Wanheda is, but I am not them. What do you want from me?"_

" _But you are, Clarke of the Sky People. Wanheda, the Commander of Death. You killed hundreds. You killed hundreds with a quarter of that the Commander has at her disposal. The Ice Queen wants to meet you. And now I will take you there. Do not fight me, you will not like the consequences"_

Reaching to his belt the man undoes a rope, before promptly tying both her hands together in front of her. Already the rope rubs at the skin on her wrists, as Clarke ponders over her new title. The Commander of Death. What kind of person does it take to be to receive such a name. Her rage dims as the thought fully registers and once again her body count begins to tick through her mind.

The attacker roughly drags her to her feet, forcing her still sore legs forward. Clarke goes quietly, still caught up in her thoughts and knowing there is little she can do at this moment to escape. They finally reach the perimeter of the forest, with more forest laying to her right and the valley passage to her left. Her attacker stiffens behind her, clearly wary of the fighting still going.

Leaning down he whispers in her ear, _"Stay close to me"_ , his breathe smells like something rotten and there is no kindness to his words. Clarke assumes the statement was merely him trying to make sure he delivered his conquest to the Ice Queen alive.

He continues pushing her forward, keeping her close to the edge of the cliff trying to avoid as many of the fighting warriors as possible. Swords swing with snarls of effort and anger around her. Even as odd as she must look at this moment no one pays either her or her attacker much attention as they pass by. Suddenly out of the corner of her eye, Clarke catches the familiar face she saw earlier. Indra's sword gleams in the sunlight as it swings down catching the legs of the Ice Nationer to her right, while also slicing through the hip of a second one advancing just behind him. Clarke knows it may be futile, Indra never liked her but before her attacker knows what she's doing, Clarke's mouth opens with a scream of Indra's name. Her captor tries to cover her mouth but is stopped as two fighting warriors fall between them. She continues her cries, struggling forward over the bodies that blanket the ground.


	8. The Sword Digs Deep

**Chapter Eight- The Sword Digs Deep**

 **Lexa**

Lexa hears the cries as her sword digs through the stomach of the Ice Nationer. Indra stands a few metres to her right, a ring of bodies surrounding her. They meet eyes momentarily. Lexa knows Indra recognises the voice too. Pulling the sword swiftly from the body kneeling in front of her, Lexa runs to Indra's side. The voice calls again, this time, her name.

She turns quickly, searching for the face. The face she's secretly longed to see. Her eyes meet Clarke's just in time to see shock and horror widen them. Confusion strikes her at Clarke's look, as Indra's cry of rage sounds beside her and Lexa watches her sword strike at something behind her. Lexa's eyes break from Clarke's and travel down to her stomach. The blade tip has ripped through the front of her armour. She can feel the blood pooling, her shirt heavy with blood sticking to her back where the blade went in. Shock stops Lexa feeling the pain for a full minute before an angry fire of agony threatens to burn her alive. Her hands go to the tip of the knife as her knees give way.

Head heavy her gazes goes back to Clarke. They lock eyes and Lexa is glad the last thing she will see, is that of the fiery beautiful human who fell from the sky. Lexa tries to smile, hoping Clarke will understand and forgive her. Blood trickles from her mouth and she coughs violently. A hand grips her shoulder, as her breathing slows and her world goes dark.


	9. The Pain of Death

**Chapter Nine- Pain of Death**

 **Clarke**

The world sways furiously and Clarke thinks she might be sick. Lexa is dead. Her vision blurs and silent tears make tracks down her cheeks. Indra holds Lexa in her arms, the sword still wedged through her body, as she yells orders to the warriors around her. Clarke's view is obstructed as a warrior leans down in front of Indra. Her heart squeezes, the tightening of her chest leaving the feeling of no air in her lungs. Clarke's breaths are quick and sharp, her whole body shaking from an invisible pressure. Suddenly her knees buckle bringing the ground a lot closer. Clarke clenches her hands together, squeezing till all her fingers go red, desperate to stop the pain, the pressure that she can no longer stand. Lexa is dead. The thought pierces her heart like the sword in Lexa's abdomen and she can feel as each shard of her heart cut at her insides, leaving her bleeding and broken. Lexa had broken her, betrayed her, had forced Clarke to her knees as she completed the darkest of acts, had made her question her whole being, yet Lexa had also made her stronger. Taken the best and worst parts of Clarke and showed her how to use both to make differences, to make the choices necessary for the survival of her people. Lexa had promised peace to Clarke, promised that together they would achieve it. But there would be no more together and no chance for Clarke to discover what might came after _"not yet"_.

Rough hands grab her shoulders but she barely notices. Her head is jerked back as her captor drags her towards the passage, muttering angrily in a language Clarke has yet to come across. Her steps are messy, like after she's had a few drinks, a heaviness sinking through her body making it almost impossible to lift her feet. The pain is overwhelming. Unbearable. Clarke only barely notices when they clear the fighting and are surrounded by large cliffs. The indescribable agony continues to threaten Clarke's consciousness until her legs can no longer support her weight and her eyes fall shut, desperate tears still sliding down her face.


	10. The Weight of War

**Chapter Ten- The Weight of War**

 **Indra**

The chaos of battle is everywhere. Bodies from both sides lay broken and bloodied, soaking the ground till it looks as though the earth itself bleeds red. Indra's forces had arrived not long after the Ice Nation's initial attacks but the assumption made that the Ice Nation would not attack till late morning had left Alio's men unprepared, outnumbered and vulnerable. When Indra's march had finally reached the battle, many of their warriors had already fallen. When it was discovered that Wanheda was in their possession the Ice Nation's warriors sounded the retreat. The Ice Queen had the weapon she needed to take down the Commander, there was no need to continue a fight that no doubt she believed she had already won.

Indra's hard gaze travels around, looking for any Ice Nationer still alive. Finding nothing except the remnants of battle, Indra looks down to examine the damage. Her left shoulder is dislocated and nasty cuts cover her legs, but there is little time to feel pain when she needs to get back to Polis. The Commander's, Lexa's, blood still soaks her armour and she can feel the phantom weight of Lexa as she lay dying in her arms. Ignoring the slightest tingle of fear in the back of her mind, Indra yells to her warriors

" _There is nothing here. Assist the wounded, we must return to the Citadel immediately"_

The warriors follow her orders promptly, not questioning her authority. The air feels heavy, not just with the death that seems to cling to those still living but with a weighty dread. A dread that will soon fill all the streets of Polis. A dread that will create discord and leave the Citadel vulnerable to those determined to take it. A dread not even Indra can deny, for the Commander's spirit is gone and with it the fragile peace she had once held.


	11. Through the Gates of Hell

**Chapter Eleven- Through the Gates of Hell**

 **Clarke**

The first thing that hits Clarke when she wakes in the dark, is the cold. A cold that doesn't just exist in the air but in the ground, in the trees, in the deathly silence of the surrounding woods. Her head aches and her body feels like she had been dragged over boulders for miles but even so, Clarke can't help but be struck by the glistening white softness that surrounds her. According to her earth studies, she is looking at snow. Atmospheric water vapour that has frozen, falling to the earth in ice crystals to create the amazing expanse around her. For a moment, Clarke forgets the pain and stares mesmerised, as she lays enclosed in strong arms.

A gruff voice in her ear brings her back to reality

" _Good you're awake. You can walk now",_ dropping Clarke to her feet before continuing, " _We are almost at Azgadea. The Queen will be pleased to see you. Don't do anything stupid, you won't be able to escape. It's best that you do as she wants. Or not. But you're suffering will be ten times greater. She'll be pleased to hear of The Commander's death"_

" _She will reward me greatly",_ he finishes mumbling, clearly pleased at the thought of the rewards he would receive for presenting the news and Clarke.

Clarke barely registers the words. The pain has gone, instead replaced with a bitter taste in her mouth and a numbness that Clarke feels all through her. Her feet sink into the snow with each step, the wet soaking through her thin pants, the freezing dampness only adding to the numbness. As Clarke clears the trees, she is once again awed. The moonlight dances off the frozen glacier that spreads before her, its gleaming perfection spreading for miles.

Her hands are bright red with cold after hours of walking through the snow. The bandages barely holding and her wrists raw from the chafing rope that still binds them. Staring ahead, Clarke blinks as a dark shape appears before her, swearing that only a moment ago it wasn't there. The moonlight outlines the walls of a crumbling building. The windows no longer filled with glass but rather wooden panels. A cross rises from the angled roof, bringing to Clarke's mind images of the religious monasteries she had studied about back on the Ark. As she and her captor near the towering building, Clarke studies the ornate iron gates that still stand surrounding the property. Guards standing stiffly just outside, the first sign of human life she has seen since leaving the battle.

As they reach the perimeter of the fencing, the guards extend their hands pulling the two gates apart, ushering Clarke and her captor forward with a nod. Clarke knows that she should feel fear, knows that the probability of her leaving this building alive is very little but the numbness still ebbs through her, covering her fear, like the snow that covers the green beneath it, hiding all traces panic. Lexa was still dead, Finn was still dead, Wells was still dead. She was just the next victim of this harsh life. Why should she fear when she cannot change the past or her inevitable future.

After walking through the foyer of building, they enter a room through large wooden doors. The magnificence of the room is undeniable. The ceiling stretches high above her, arched beams supporting its weight. Beneath centuries old dirt and grime, Clarke can just make out the image painted on its ceiling. Taking a moment to imagine herself, brush in hand, carefully sweeping the brush back and forth, carving out the cheeks of angels and the soft depth of the clouds they sit on, Clarke sighs. At least if she is to die, it'll be looking at something as impressive as the art above her. Broken of her trance by a clearly annoyed grunt, her captor pushes her roughly in the back before forcing her to her knees in front of an altar, once covered in rich red carpet which had since reduced to scraggly bits of thread frozen to the concrete. Looking up, Clarke observes the baroque wooden chair that sits before her and the figure residing in it, staring back with a menacing curiosity. Clarke swallows, her eyes trapped by the icy blue ones that look back at her which finally break through her numbness, bringing fear rising to the surface.

" _Wanheda, we meet at last"_


	12. Death

**Chapter Twelve- Death**

 **Abby**

The monitor goes off with a screeching blare for the second time. Grabbing at her stethoscope, Abby runs through the glass door.

" _Code Blue, crash cart now!"_

Reaching over the bed, Jackson hands Abby the paddles.

" _Charge to 200….Clear"_

The heart monitor jumps, before continuing to flat line.

" _Charge again…..Clear"_

Staring with desperate eyes at the monitor, Abby frantically coaxes, _"Come on…come on…Don't you give up on me yet, keeping fighting, come on!"_


End file.
